


Chicken/Hawk

by rubygirl29



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chickens can be dangerous, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken/Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 2 ccbingo. Kind of crack-fic but not really. Prompt: Alektorophobia (fear of chickens). Somehow, I just couldn't picture Phil in a chicken suit.

The warehouse is old and smells like mildew, oil and rust. There are cobwebs in the rafters that look like they were spun by Shelob. Clint hates the way they cling to his skin, but likes the way they veil his presence. That's the whole point of being a sniper. He's used to being invisible, solitary. He works best alone, he always has, ever since Barney decided that Trick Shot was a better bet than his skinny brother. He'd lost that wager. Clint, alone, was far more deadly. 

Below him, Natasha and Coulson are waiting for Anatoly Dobrev. Dobrev claims he has stolen secrets in his possession; secrets that would tip the nuclear balance in the world. Clint isn't sure about that. The whole op reeks of a trap. "It's a trap," he tells Coulson.

Coulson pretends he hasn't heard Clint's concern, but his mouth tilts at the corner, telling in its wry acknowledgment. "Do you need a nest?"

Clint climbs up into the darkness and finds his perch. He is tucked sideways into a niche. His bow is collapsed, but if he extends his arm a few inches, he can release it, aim and shoot. 

He is comfortable, physically. Mentally, he's keyed up and focused on Coulson and Natasha. The door bursts open, his bow comes up, arrow nocked and waiting for him to pull the bowstring taut. Clint feels the tension in his arm and back, but he is rock-steady. 

Dobrev strides in, accompanied by five huge bodyguards. 

Five seems slightly excessive to Clint. He wonders if he should even the odds, but Coulson's calm expression as he glances up for a second tells Clint to hold his fire. 

Dobrev hands a briefcase over to Coulson. Natasha looks nervous, her hands unobtrusively clenching and unclenching while her body remains deceptively quiet. Clint's eyes pick out the minute motion. If Natasha is showing that much tension, then there is no way he's standing down.

Phil takes the case and Clint focuses on the it. He doesn't have superpowers, but his eyesight is so acute that Tony Stark has been using it as a model for Iron Man's visual matrix. The sunlight is filtering through the grimy windows. Dust motes float in the air, but Clint sees a tiny glint of a fiber no thicker than a hair on the hinge. He goes cold. He's seen it before, in Afghanistan, the telltale gossamer glimmer of a hair-trigger mechanism.

"Coulson, it's booby-trapped," he says into his mike. It takes only a minute nod from Coulson. Clint releases two arrows in quick succession. Two arrows release and two of the bodyguards go down to the floor, crippled by shots to their hamstrings.  


Natasha whirls into action and two more hit the ground. Coulson shoots the last man though the kneecap. Clint somersaults gracefully from the rafters where he had hidden, landing with an arrow aimed at Dobrev's throat. 

Dobrev growls something that sounds like _kuritsa_ to Coulson. Natasha snorts with laughter and Coulson smiles serenely. "I might be nothing more than a chicken, but you should reconsider the Hawk."

By now, Clint has Dobrev in handcuffs and Tasha has secured the others. S.H.I.E.L.D. is on the way for the pick-up and with a bomb squad in tow. Natasha rides to the hospital to see if she can get information from Dobrev's guards before the good drugs kick in. Dobrev is handed over to the intelligence and interrogation team. The bomb squad has defused what turns out to be a smoke bomb and has taken the briefcase in custody for the analysts. Obviously, Dobrev's intent was for Coulson to open the case, release the smoke, and give him and his cohorts a chance to get away. 

Clint watches them leave. "I would have gotten him, sir," he tells Coulson, a little smile quirking his lips.

"I have no doubt, Barton."

"So, back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Stop by my office later."

Clint grins. "I can do that, sir."

"All in all, a successful operation." 

"He should have been afraid of the chicken, sir." 

Coulson laughs at that as they leave the warehouse. "They never learn." His shoulder brushes against Clint's. A long day, a successful op, and time spent with Phil. This one goes in the win column.

**The End**


End file.
